


Accidents Happen

by FieryEclipse



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Male Slash, Slash, lighter than my usual anyway, season 4, set roughly around The Wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 10:57:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7312258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryEclipse/pseuds/FieryEclipse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen. Sylar hadn't been counting on it, and in fact, it had taken him completely by surprise. But now: after all is said and done, the fights fought, the battles won... he finds himself lying awake in bed after 3am with a dreaming Peter Petrelli in his arms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accidents Happen

It was an accident. It wasn't supposed to happen. Sylar hadn't been counting on it, and in fact, it had taken him completely by surprise. But now: after all is said and done, the fights fought, the battles won... he finds himself lying awake in bed after 3am with a dreaming Peter Petrelli in his arms.

 

Beautiful. His eyes roam over the other man's serene face, mere inches away from his own. Peter is sound asleep, has been for hours now, but Sylar just can't drift off no matter how hard he tries. Something is bothering him, itching like claws against his skin, and he can't possibly sleep atop a matter so important. This torture will no doubt continue to haunt him until he gives in, but he's not ready to share just yet. It's private. Personal. Accidental. And after all, this really isn't the worst way to pass the night...

 

He should be used to it by now, but the realisation clonks him over the head for the hundredth time, as strong as it was that very first night: he's _with_ Peter now. Actually wanted, liked, _allowed_ to be here and bask in this luxury that is currently being granted by the vulnerable, sleeping man. It still feels bizarre to be trusted this much. Bizarre, but wonderful.

 

Sylar does nothing but stare, transfixed, at the figure lying warm against his chest. He watches Peter sleep, listens to him breathe and feels every sporadic little twitch as the hero fights like hell to save the day, even in his dreams. The reformed killer smiles to himself, and sends out greedy fingers to stroke Peter's hair, to touch his face too lightly to wake him. His skin is warm, smooth and soft, baby soft, and just as wondrous tonight as it always is. Technically it _is_ young skin, considering it was blown off by a nuclear blast and regrown merely a few years ago, but still Sylar simply can't get enough of the unique sensation.

 

He traces a fingertip down the shallow slope of Peter's nose, enjoying the subconscious twitch that follows and the brief change in the tempo of the man's breathing. For a moment Sylar thinks he might wake, but the empath soon slips back into the depths of slumber that carry him carefully away. He looks so young like this, so innocent, unguarded in a way that he rarely is anymore. Sylar knows, through fragmented memories that used to belong to a lost brother, that Peter used to be this trusting and sweet all the time. Knows that he was still that way when he first came head to head with a certain serial killer in a highschool corridor...

 

Sylar also knows that the weariness and battle scars now tarnishing Peter's soul are all his fault.

 

The sweetness and optimism that has faded over recent years was dimmed by Sylar's hand, and he hates that something so pure and tender has been damaged beyond repair. Yes, Peter Petrelli is still forgiving and hopeful and good. But he's also wiser now. He's wounded. He'll never be the same as he used to be, except in these rare, precious moments while lost in the simple reprieve of his dreams...

 

The night is dark, still, and Sylar can hear Peter's heart beating, slow and steady. He can't fathom how he used to, inconceivably, hate this man. How much he wanted to drain the life from those veins with his very hands. Then he is punished with memories of the many times he successfully managed to do just that. It hurts just to think of it, and suddenly Sylar aches for confirmation that it's all in the past, that they've moved on from then and that there is more than just his past actions defining him...

 

This time, when he threads his fingers through that dark, silky hair, he does so in order to earn a sleepy grumble in response. “I'm sorry, Peter.” He whispers, watching the man writhe and frown, annoyed at being woken.

 

“Mm? F'what?” Peter mumbles, reluctantly coming to.

 

“For hurting you.”

 

When he remembers where he is, Peter's frown fades and he chuckles faintly. “Which time?” He asks drowsily, rubbing his eyes and exhaling a deep sigh that dusts out the lingering coils of sleep from his body.

 

“All of them.” Sylar's traitor voice cracks a little, betraying him.

 

Rousing now, Peter groggily leans up on one elbow, watching Sylar with growing alarm. His hair is tousled and messy, almost comically so, and he fights to blink his way into full consciousness. He looks painfully cosy, soft and freshly woken. “Hey...” He croons quietly, all serious now. “What brought this on?”

 

Now that they're both awake and talking, Sylar feels stupid for working himself into a state. It was only past issues haunting him, he realises, and allows Peter's genuine concern to soothe his earlier fears. He shakes his head, smiling at his friend to ease his worries. “I was just thinking about you... Us. What we've been through together.”

 

Peter nods, listening closely and reading Sylar with tangible intensity. “Yeah?” He prompts.

 

“...That's it.” Sylar says simply, growing self conscious under the scrutiny and the knowledge that he's sitting on a secret that's burning a hole right through him. He smiles again, in hopes of ending the inspection now that the matter has been settled on his part, but Peter's brows merely lower and worry practically radiates off him in waves. Only now does Sylar realise he has unwittingly opened up a can of worms. He fidgets, then lets out a breath. It will only be cruel to leave this sensitive man to assume the worst, which he undoubtedly will. “Thank you, for helping me, sticking with me even... even after everything. I really appreciate it, Peter, I hope you know that.” Without a doubt, Sylar knows this transition back to human being from merciless killer would not be possible without this man's faith in him. This time his smile is borne purely from genuine gratitude. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me.”

 

Peter's face breaks into a warm, heartfelt smile, one that shines all the way through to his eyes. He reaches out and brushes Sylar's face with his fingers before cupping his cheek in a tender palm, replying through his favoured medium of touch. Sylar knows this man, knows him from multiple lifetimes, and he doesn't even doubt that the guy wishes he could return the words, even if just for the sentiment. But he can't. Because it isn't true and they both know it. Yes, _now_ Sylar has only good intentions towards this man, but he has brought so much destruction to Peter's life in the past. Too much. And it can't ever be erased and will never fade, not even with the ticking hands of endless time on their side.

 

“Thank you.” The empath says huskily, meaningfully, conveying how much Sylar's praise means through his honest expression and gentle caress. It's a sincere moment, one that Sylar is more than happy to bask in... until he realises that the other man is still waiting for something else from him.

 

“Oh. That's it this time.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“...I don't believe you.” Peter states bluntly, still looking over Sylar with an intuition that could unravel the tightest knots of a person's hidden identity. This is his core skill, this is what he's good at. But Sylar won't let his secret be pried from him this way. Just let Peter try. “You're hiding something from me...?”

 

The unfiltered pain and twinges of anxiety in Peter's murmur rip at Sylar's heartstrings. He knows the guy has been hurt before, and has no intention of giving off the impression that he's about to do the same thing now. So he kisses the smaller man in reply, to let him know that things are okay and that there's no need to worry. “It's nothing.” He breathes, against asymmetrical lips. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“No. Not until you tell me what's going on!” Peter is stubborn as always, his eyes determined, his hair still ruffled.

 

In the old days, a fight would be approaching them now at warp speed, inevitable, dreadful. But tonight... tonight Sylar takes advantage of his current status to soothe Peter in a much more favourable way. With a smirk he pulls the guy forward again and peppers brief, light kisses over his face: his lips, his chin, his earlobes, his eyelids, the tip of his nose... Sylar continues to tease and distract his lover this way until a familiar, goofy laugh eventually escapes the man, and the impossible happens – Peter Petrelli relents.

 

“Fine. Whatever. Keep your secrets. But only 'cause I'm tired 'cause _someone_ woke me up at half three in the morning!” Peter smiles through his eyes again, but there is still some lingering uncertainty there. It sparks for only a moment however, before he playfully pats Sylar's cheek and rolls over, making himself comfortable again. “But we're talking about this tomorrow...!” He warns, just a tuft of dark locks sticking out the top of the duvet.

 

Sylar enjoys the flush of adoration that washes through him, and merely replies with a vague “Hmmm...” and a twitch of one corner of his mouth. Then he, too, settles down snugly under the covers, but is far from falling asleep. Instead he silently struggles: awash with so many conflicting emotions, so much that he wants to get off his chest, biting back the words that are dancing on the tip of his tongue. But he does nothing. Nothing more than lie there and wait for his companion to grow still and heavy in sleep once more.

 

Only when he is absolutely _sure_ that Peter is out for the count does he decide that he can't withstand this any longer. Keeping his secret locked away inside is burning him alive, killing him, driving him more insane than his murderous rampages ever did. He shuffles across the mattress, cuddles in close and trails the faintest, softest stripe around the rim of the sleeping man's ear with his lips. Then he finally does it. In the tiniest of breaths, Sylar frees the words that have been left to ripen within him all his life, unspoken, undeserved, until now. “I... love you.”

 

He grins so widely that he would be embarrassed if there were anyone else here to see it. Just the sensation of saying it aloud, of finally lifting the lid on the pressure that has built inside him to an unbearable inferno, makes him feel instantly light headed. He can't believe he did it! Actually heard _those_ words said in _his_ voice, directed at _this_ man... who completely missed the entire thing. But that's the way Sylar wants it. He _will_ tell Peter someday, he knows it for sure. Just not yet.

 

Sylar never meant to fall in love with his worst enemy. But accidents happen. And he couldn't be more grateful that this one did. Buzzing inside, he closes his eyes and settles in against that baby soft skin, happy and content and so very much in love for the first time.

 

Within seconds of his head hitting the pillow, the beautiful ease of sleep pulls him swiftly under at last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, just a little oneshot this time! I hope you liked it, and as always – please let me know what you think, if you feel so inclined ^.^ I have more ideas in the works, but I can't say for sure when they'll be posted yet, just that there will be more to come...


End file.
